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BHPian iliketurtles recently shared this with other enthusiasts.
Looking back, my life can be neatly divided into two phases. Letās call them AD (Age of Diesels) and BC (BMW Cars) for easy reference.
If I cast my mindās eye to 2018 BC, I realise the precise moment I knew change was afoot.
My wife, who pronounces salad like Malad because she knows it annoys me so, was leaving town for the next 3-4 days and threw one of her trademark phrases my way to add to her greatest hits collection of quick quips.
This includes eternal favourites of mine, such as
"Shut your mouth and eat your dinner, thereās no such thing as overcooked chicken"
āBaby, how much do you love me?ā
āStop it, you big babyā
Or her firm favourite, āNo, Karan! Donāt do that!ā
So, anyway, thatās when it happened.
Bags packed, almost out the door, she turned and fixed a glare on me, saying, āDonāt do anything stupid while Iām away.ā
Stupid? Me? Perish the thought, woman.
And thatās where the problem started.
Iāve never been one to do what Iām told, and sure enough, my inner rebel stirred. Barely 24 hours later, I had made a down payment for the 3, and she would be home in a week. Surprise, frƤulein! At least you caught me canoodling with the right kind of redhead.
I'm alright, standing in the street lights here
Is this meant for me? My time on the outside is over
Itās been 3 years since I brought the 3 home, and itās been a helluva ride.
You know how they say, āwhen you know, you know?ā. The moment I clapped eyes on her, I just knew. It was that heady, intoxicating rush of blood that we call love. Or lust, depending on the direction of said rush. Regardless, I never looked back after picking her up. The reversing camera helps a great deal in that regard, truth be told.
Iād like to say itās been a rollercoaster ride, but it hasnāt. Sheās been surprisingly reliable, with only a few niggling issues that come about with age (iffy sensors, mainly). It helps that Iām proactive with fixing gremlins that pop up, and with service requirements too. I guess thatās a good thumb rule to follow with all things Teutonic. Thereās a Check Engine Light Iām looking to get fixed (I think related to the installation of the downpipe) that needs to be fixed. All else is normal.
Sheās currently about to bring up 48,000 clicks on the odometer, so Iāve notched up some 30,000 kilometres at the helm of this red rocket ship. Doubtlessly, Iād have added even more was it not for cussed Covid.
Even after I decided to embrace the low-life, Iāve taken her on multiple sorties and longer forays (mostly to Goa) without breaking much of a sweat. Iāve driven her like she was meant to: with vim and vigour, when life in the big city allows me to, with a spot of relaxation thrown into the mix now and then. My first Bimmer has been a rewarding, enjoyable experience, and I have learnt much from our time together, as I shall now bore you recounting.
A lot of us buy cars for rational, pragmatic reasons. And thereās nothing wrong with that. But I identify closely with the rebels, the misfits, the crazy ones. The ones that donāt follow the beaten path, or take the route less travelled. The ones that donāt just see a car as a means to an end. Thatās because cars are an extension of us, our most visible outfit for the world to see.
For instance, if you choose to buy a Prius, youāre immediately assumed to be a rabid eco-warrior with zero appreciation for design sensibilities.
Or, if you drive a Hummer, you suffer from what the medical community calls Small Scrote Syndrome, a tragic medical condition where the size of your lug nuts is inversely proportional to the size of your choice of vehicle.
The more observant among you might have noticed I did not name any Indian cars on sale. Astute. Thatās because everyone likes to take offence. No offence.
But, to get my point, choosing a BMW doesnāt mean youāve arrived (although it does for some), so much as how youāve arrived. Mechanical wizards might work their magic on FWD cars, but there are limits to the extent of the power of the dark arts. A FWD car pushed to its limits inevitably sounds like a stable of pigs squealing as they escape the sty.
Sure, even BMW is moving away from the RWD formula, sadly. But companies like Cadillac (Cadillac, incredibly!) are showing that AWD is not an absolute necessity even when youāre pushing 500 BHP, as it is with the Cadillac CT4-V Blackwing or its big brother that pushes nearly 700 BHP. And it heartens that this is so, that a few fits of rage against the dying of the light.
Thatās because, simply put, rear-wheel-drive matters. In the furthest recesses of a petrolheadās cranium, we know that power delivered to the rear wheels is a central pillar of the temple of the automotive gods. Sure, FWD gets the job done in almost all urban applications, and AWD is a must for burly off-roaders, if not 4-wheel drive.
But at speed, switching off the electronic nannies brings the car to life. The machinery embraces you for waking it up, and draws you deeper into its very core, encouraging you to go harder. Of course, this 3 is no race car, but as a corner-carver cum city-goer, it is excellent, a master of many trades with an allure that runs deep.
Perhaps itās because I lowered her, but the 3 has heavier steering than the normal 3, and she turns in with immediacy, scampering from one corner to the next as if Thor were flinging her. Itās joyous in extremis, and I believe a big part of it is because itās got rear-wheel drive at play.
Something they donāt tell you prior to buying a BMW is that itās like joining a cult, except you never got the memo.
Almost every BMW driver you roll up next to sees you as a Bavarian brother from another mother and shares a deep spiritual connection with you.
āCome, brother. Let us commune, and together break tread.ā
And then, of course, there is the larger German Reich that welcomes you readily. Just donāt expect the FWD Audiās to break tread with you readily.
And, of course, sometimes you get people seeing you differently.
For instance, my business head at the time I bought the 3 drove a Honda City. Not just any City either; one of those fugly dolphins that somehow made it to production. Suffice to say I cajoled her into buying a new Camry to keep up appearances, just so I didnāt upset power dynamics.
And then, of course, your success sometimes breeds resentfulness, be it begrudging or contemptuous. Guess all you can do is drive off muy Rapido, a peal of squealing rubber sound-tracking your getaway as you scream, āWHATāS THAT, BUD? I CANāT HEAR YOU OVER THE SOUND OF SUCCESS.ā
What Iām saying, is that the club definitely has its perks, but there are some downsides too. You might expect a flaming red BMW to bring all the girls to my proverbial yard, but this toy only attracts all the boys to my (non-existent) yard. Reminds me of something that rhymes with chick magnet, but I canāt quite put my finger on it.
No matter how high a station in life you ascend to, it is hard to escape your early grounding. I guess thereās a reason itās called your formative years.
Like any other middle-class boy, I was instilled with a few basic values; work hard, stay honest, you know the lot.
Of these, the value of hard work has become amply clear to me. How else are you going to pay for exponentially increased service bills and go-fast bits? And all those arenāt going to pay for themselves either. In fact, itās why theyāre mooching off you, you magnificent BMW owner, you.
Truth be told, she hasnāt been that expensive to maintain (I am talking about the car here, to be clear).
Let me put that in perspective with cold, hard numbers. I have an insurance renewal coming up in 2 weeks and have been quoted ā¹6xxxx for a zero dep policy, which came down to ā¹54xxx after some back and forth. Not too bad for a 9-year-old car.
I slapped on a new set of Michelin Pilot Sports 4s on her, which set me back about ā¹81000 and expect it to last me about 25,000 km.
A brake job (pads, sensors, fluids, etc.) sets me back about ā¹30,000 for EBC yellow stuff and lasts about 25,000 km too.
So, all said, itās not that expensive to maintain. Although I understand expensive is relative, as are relatives, especially during wedding season.
All this simply goes on to underline what they all say: work hard, and party hard. Because youāre going to need all that extra cash for your ride.
Hand placement is of the essence, gotta get them pics for the āgram, Bois. (Also, this leaves one hand free to showcase your bird collection to fellow drivers. Win-win).
Right then, thatās my rambling done. Peace out, and stay cool, fellow kids. See ya.
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